The First Game of the Year
by mitakuta
Summary: or How Gryffindor began their eight year losing streak. All OC. FINISHED
1. Default Chapter

All original characters except for references to staff of Hogwarts, Charlie Weasley, Dorcas Meadowes, and Voldermort, who were created by J.K Rowling.

Rating – G

Humour / drama

First Game of the Year or How Gryffindor began their eight year losing streak.

Ch1

The teams flew off, and under twelve seconds the Slytherins had secured their first two goals. Red gloved fists waved furiously and inappropriate insults were flung across the field while overhead the players settled themselves into battle mode.

Eyes everywhere were strained as they squinted against the bright October sunlight that illuminated the stark red scarves of Gryffindor's supporters and the brilliant green of Slytherin's all around.

In the meantime Rob O'Reilly, an enthusiastic third year from Ravenclaw had the daunting task of lightening the tense mood of the crowd.

.. bludger bashed Gryffindor's Captain Kenneth Bane on the knee showcasing one of the most (he made a deliberate pause) .. impressive mid air pirouettes in Quidditch history... ha! ha! ha! ... er, not that Bane was ever 'in' a _Ballet _class.. um...and there's a nice tackle from Gryffindor's Laetitia Briggs, just ducking the bludger shot from Slytherin's Agnelo Lucas....oooh! the fans are NOT happy about that one...the quaffle, as if anyone missed that, was kicked out of the hands of chaser Penelope Pater of Gryffindor by Slytherin's chaser Thomas Wrykin...

During the above commentary, I was busy watching every suspect head among the bobbing, energetic crowd before nausea set in and I had to turn away.

After a couple of deep breaths, that first faint sensation of panic which had gripped me on entering the stands began to weaken.

'_He_' _wouldn't miss today's match_, I tried to tell myself. _It just isn't possible_.

The first match of the year was the only topic of conversation since term began in September and it was a marveling fact that it drew everyone into the cold outdoors as few things could. If today's match could draw Argus Filch the caretaker from his sanctimonious cleaning duties to scream his lungs out with the crowds, then it stood to reason that '_he_' would also be here.

The penalty goal went off side and Gryffindor gained its first point. Following the Slytherin teams earlier example, goal after goal was scored by the Gryffindor chasers as the dazed Slytherin players scrambled to make up their lost points.

A frenzy seemed to have come over Gryffindor's chaser Bane.

Apparently avenging the 'ballet' slight , he actually hit a bludger so hard that it whipped the Quaffle out of the startled hand of Slytherin chaser Raoul Mathis straight into the arms of Laetitia Briggs from Gryffindor scoring another goal.

The crowd's deafening cheer faded when Mathis (also of the hot blooded type) grabbed a beater club and rammed it against Bane's jaw resulting in a lot of blood and loose incisors. After a quick medical examination, Mathis was sent off and the next penalty goal went to Bane.

I had finished scanning two sides of the stadium by that time, but it was getting harder to concentrate on the task at hand with all the action above me. It wasn't long before I started scanning the skies.

Penelope Pater from Gryffindor scored a double goal owing to bad timing on the Slytherin keeper's part. After the first goal was scored, the disgruntled keeper violently flung the Quaffle in Pater's direction with the intention of knocking her off her broom. Thanks largely to her good reflexes, she scored a second goal much to the dismay of the Slytherins.

By the look of things, it was painfully obvious which team was going to have a Butterbeer binge at the conclusion of the match. The skies did not actually darken but the signs were visible to all by the desperate bursts of speed from the Slytherin side and the pleas for concentration on their lips. The only decent thing left was to avert my eyes from the painful scene ahead.

Just then, a sharp gasp escaped from the crowd.

I was just in time to see the Slytherin Seeker, Paris Croesus, spiral rapidly downward before halting mid air to land gently on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Madam Hooch hurried over with her wand outstretched, shouting orders to the other players above. Craning my neck to get a better view of the body, I was speculating whether it was possible that Croesus could really be 'struck by lightning'when a flushed Flavius Trent came up to the stands and gripped my wrist.

"Cmon you ! , he hissed impatiently, his pale eyes unusually bright with excitement.

Startled yet curious, I allowed him to lead me while picking up news from the onlookers.

..flew straight into the pole...

..did you see that..?

Bloody fool!!

Think it was deliberate..?

oh! oh! he tried the ronski faint thingy!

Feint! Wronski feint, how many times do I have to tell..

_Must have been painful_, I thought with a shade more compassion for the fallen Seeker than usual. Especially when he learns in the hospital wing that the Slytherins will have forfeited the game.

Trent apparently had the same trend of thought and nodded grimly at the Slytherin Captain and Keeper Destin Dorchester who was hovering near his fallen team mate with a strained expression on his face.

As stretchers were conjured, Madam Hoochs shrill whistle heralded the half time break, much to the disappointment of the Gryffindor fans.

This surprised me. Surely the game was over thanks to the optical oversight of our resident House Seeker?

With a startled jolt I remembered my main purpose for coming.

Hey Flave, I said, including Trent in my troubles for the first time, Did you see Professor Snape anywhere at the game today?

He did not attend the game." Trent replied shortly, as we winded our way past a jubilant group of gambling third years from Hufflepuff. "Dorchester needs to see you though.

If its possible to have two bursts of surprise in one go, that is exactly what happened to me now.

W..What?! Snape isnt here? I gasped as the awful truth sank in. B-but I spent all bloody morning hoping to ask him about our OWL practice paper and you're telling me he didnt leave a memo about the change in plan?

I brooded silently on the unfairness of it all.

As it is, I dont voluntarily seek out the attention of our Head of House as his mood swings tend to range from peeved disgruntlement to downright outrage depending on his mood swings. However, even the bitterest critic knew that an 'Outstanding' in Potions did wonders to their future resumes and it's a well known fact that Snape is most helpful to students of his own house. Including me.

He isnt at the school either because he's on an '_important_' errand, said Trent half turning with a meaningful raised eyebrow.

I was about to get sarcastic, when I heard the last words.

Oh, right...

It is an open secret among all Slytherins that the subject of our Head of Houses rare absences were not to be discussed publicly. We all knew that during those times this had something to do with the progress of getting that Ass-who-must-not-be-named back in business.

However, as this subject was freely circulated among the children of former Death Eaters, it was usually wiser for the "others" to plead ignorance to all news even if the whispers were loud enough to be heard across three bathroom stalls. I was grateful therefore to see Dorchester running up to meet us.

As the game had revealed, goal keeping was not Dorchester's forte. His medium broad frame was ideally suited to the role of beater where muscle makes all the difference in clearing the field of players (temporarily or permanently), whereas for the goal keeping post you needed someone with more finesse and quick on his toes or rather in the air. Judging from his scowl or grin (I could not tell which) he wanted to tell me something.

Well, what do you want? I asked coolly, easing the stiffness out of my fingers. It was a chilly morning despite the sunshine and I came without my gloves. What he said next nearly made me break my fingers off.

Meadowes ... you'll have to replace Croesus.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch 3

I stared at him, rendered speechless for several moments. Trent recovered before me and voiced the question, actually two questions that had temporarily stunned his mind.

**"**What?!**"** he exclaimed and jerking his thumb at me, **"**Why her?**"**

Question one did not bother me so much as question two. Although I was never really good at ground level sports, it was amazing how naturally flying came to me as it does for our feather-brained bozos in the sky.

I discovered this sporting streak quite by accident.

It was the day after the last Halloween feast and I had overslept at the Astronomy towers after an all-nighter girl talk with some Ravenclaws. It was therefore was a bit of shock to us the next morning when we discovered that the first lesson was due to start in 15 minutes.

Dashing down the ladder and dodging several well-breakfasted students, I came to the fourth floor and had to pause. The stairs were jammed with noisy students hurrying to their classes and as luck would have it, my first class was Potions. Much as he dislikes latecomers, it irks Snape to no end having one from his own house.

Bearing this in mind, I desperately seated myself on the stair railing and was about to begin a painfully slow descent downstairs.

That's when I noticed the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming back from their morning practice. Heading the team was their captain, a sniffy slender boy of fifteen named Raymond Brown, who was holding his broom over the student's bobbing heads making sure no-one scratched it's shiny surface.

As the saying goes, Inspiration struck.

Hesitating for a moment, I lifted the broom easily out of his hands, hoisted myself onto the thing and dived over the railing.

By curious luck, the staircases beneath had cleared on two floors leaving me enough free space for vertical flying. I say 'vertical' because that was the only position to be managed without hitting one of the stairs unexpectedly. Even Peeves the poltergeist, who happened to be hitting some second years with a peashooter gasped.

The first bit of trouble began when the broom began shuddering slowly then rapidly in an attempt literally to shake me off. There was an anti-theft charm on the blasted thing and without a firm grip I would be flung off to certain injury.

It must have looked funny, because Peeves was laughing and spinning backwards out of the corner of my eye. In an attempt to straighten the broom again I was hit instead by an incoming staircase that flipped me over.

I barely recovered from that shock when another staircase nudged the front of the stick and for a while everything went blurry in the recent ping-pong spate .

To this day, I don't know how I managed it.

Still hanging upside down and too disorientated to make any changes save to firmly interlock my legs on the stick, I flew down and did a sharp turn to what I thought was the left. The broom flew straight through the open doors of the Great Hall on the right and narrowly missed a headlong collision with a group of emerging third years.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was still upside down and clutching the broom for all it was worth, from the wall behind the staff table where the broomstick had made a deep indent.

After the week's detention with Snape was over (along with some really scathing remarks that still occasionally haunt me), I was handed a slip from Dorchester signaling the start of my official Quidditch training days.

**"**Dorchester,**"** I said, shaking off the remnants of the flashback, **"**What do you mean I have to replace Croesus? I've only ever done tryouts, not," I added "that I had many of those..**"**

Dorchester shook his closely cropped head impatiently. **"**Look, do you think we give a d--- right now? we didn't _think_ we'd need any backup for the Seeker position and you were our last choice.... **"** he added in a tone of regret which I thought was uncalled for.

**"**and anyway, Madam Pomprey has a new shipment of Skele – mend in case of ..well.. of any 'accidents', so what else is there to worry about?.. **"**

Noticing the look on my face, he began to put across an eloquent speech of the great opportunity I was offered and how it was just like me to throw away an excellent chance to actually be on the team not, he concluded nastily, that I would ever have been in the team had Croesus not inconveniently er, dropped out.

Dorchester turned away abruptly, his gaze anxious for a moment and I saw Madam Hooch making impatient signs to him for the verdict. My verdict.

I resigned myself to the hand fate had dealt.

**"**Alright!**" **I replied testily.**"** But dont expect any miracles..**"**

The whistle blew, and Professor McGonagall made the important communication to the crowd. Dorchester and Trent had already run off the field and had brought my broom, accompanying it like a couple of pallbearers. I was curiously touched by this morbid gesture of faith in me, and from a team with whom I normally had an uneasy alliance.

Meanwhile waves of astonished outrage poured from the crimson stands and it was a while before the whistle was heard again signaling the start of the second half.

As I was about to mount the broom, Trent stayed my hand.

**"**Not yet. Wait for the whistle.**"**

I hid the smile threatening to erupt from the corner of my mouth. This almost thoughtful gesture on his part meant something was bothering him and I think I knew what it was. Trent has a keen sporting streak in him, and I suspect that the outcome of this game depended largely on how Slytherin performed. I almost felt sorry for him, as Croesus was a sure thing during the practise sessions and now the favourite had given way to me.

I decided to see if I was right.

**"**So Flavey, are you so sure that I can get the snitch?**"** I asked , folding my hands in mock defiance.

Trents trademark scowl which was focused on Madam Hooch softened slightly. **" **Yes.**"**

"Really?**" **I said , not believing my ears.

"Because if you dont, Meadowes I will personally see you through a private investigative tour of Filchs' torture chambers after the match.**"**

Slytherins after all will be Slytherins.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch 4

Despite the display of nonchalance, my stomach had plummeted to the soles of my feet with no indication of making the return trip. It was the atmosphere that caused it.

This was the first Slytherin and Gryffindor final since the infamous Charlie Weasley from Gryffindor left school last year, and this was my first Quidditch match for a House that I cared little for in the first place.

I mused on the irony for a moment.

When the Sorting Hat drew up the Slytherin House for choice, no one could have been more upset about the decision than me. I argued, pleaded and generally refused to cooperate with the authorities until they could change the House. Raised in a part muggle family, I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with a house noted primarily for its most infamous son, Lord Voldermort and I told them so.

Professor Snape was particularly annoyed about the fuss that I had created but no amount of stern lecturing helped to alter the view that as far as the raffle draw of Fate was concerned, I had drawn a dud.

Then again, maybe today's match was a sign of good things to come. As Dorchester pointed out, this was a rare opportunity to play and I was determined to make the most of it.

The whistle blew, and we were off. At least the broom was.

My hands flailed blindly for several moments as my seat lifted off the ground and I soared in the air. At last, about 5 feet off the ground I lunged forward and made contact with the stick before me and then understood. There was a kick- start jinx on the broom. A last minute trick courtesy Flavius "Rat-face' Trent!

Shock mingled with anger as I turned the broom around to the stands where Trent had disappeared.

On the speed of emotion, I zoomed down. _I should have known better_!

So that was why he waited and I fell for it. It was just like him to leave a reminder of last year's terrifying episode. I could just make out Trents astonished expression as I gained speed to rush him in the stands before a loud cry stopped my heart.

The snitch was spotted.

I hovered in the air, distraught with quick decision-making. Throttling young Trent presented a tempting vision, but with it would come the regrettable urgency to kick myself for passing up the chance of actually winning this game.

Gritting my teeth, I turned the Cumulous 800 around and sped upwards instead of towards the direction of the cry.

From that vantage point, I saw my target: Chloe Gordon.

A talented seeker on Gryffindor's team, but as previous game practices had shown, with a tendency to botch up the policy of silence and discretion. In short, she always blurted out the first sighting of the snitch with a loud shriek.

I made a hyperbola and shot vertically downwards with the intention of cutting off Gordon, but I miscalculated by a few inches and had to steer sharply over the crowd's heads on the opposite stand. The whistle blew and I flew over to Madam Hooch for the verdict of going off-side.

Before she could start, I cut in with a hurried explanation of the jinx that was placed on the broom. After a few quick flicks of her wand to verify my story, the reading for jinx tampering showed positive.

With a sigh of relief I turned back to resume the game.

Fortunately, the snitch had also disappeared, leaving Gordon empty handed.

**"..**It's gone! gone without a trace!! and a close one for Gryffindor...oh and for Slytherin as well. Now - it's Slytherin's DePore tackling Pater from Gryffindor with fellow Beater Sawyers bringing up the rear and he's taking aim at.. No, no he's changing direction...he's going the other way, he's..**"**

A furious Geoffrey Sawyers from Gryffindor shot a passing bludger in my direction and succeeded in grazing my left ear. The pain sent the sting of tears to my eyes and my hands gripping the rough shape of the broom shook slightly with the return of building anger.

"Ouch!! And there's Madam Hooch with the whistle...what can I say Tabitha Meadowes, you must be smarting from that one..."

_Of course_, it was completely natural if stupid for Sawyers to stand up for his girl friend but it would take more than chip shots to reduce my determination for a victory.

If I wanted a victory, that is...

I swept my way above the players and watched the world below.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5

_I should have known_....

I became perfectly aware of the implications of entering the Wizarding world from the very first week.

Raised as a thoroughbred muggle (much to the chagrin of the Slytherins), those bed time stories of warlocks, witches , charms and fantastic creatures that my parents told me as a child all turned out to be true. They had the notion, as parents do sometimes, that if the news was broken in to me slowly then the introductory letter from Hogwarts would not come as a big shock.

I also kept from the truth about my aunt Dorcas Meadowes, who was _personally _taken down by Voldermort and not by an acute attack of typhoid as I was led to believe for many years.

That was another reason.

I am not prone to sentiment but I still get affected by memories of her. I suppose we were as close as niece and aunts could possibly get, besides sharing the same name.

It scares me a little, when I think about how I inherited more than just features and a name from her.

There was the way her dark frizzy hair (like mine) used to stick out in all angles while she taught me how to make toffee during the hot summer months. Or how she would know when I was upset by a recent fight with my brother, even if I pulled my best poker face at her.

Then there was her Gaze.

Her dark gaze could cut through glass and see all its little secrets which didn't help when I was telling lies, white and otherwise. People say I've inherited that look...

Well needless to say, it was still big news when the letter did arrive.

Visions of oven toasted witches and melting witches from the East swirled around my head for the entire day. I still retained the fairy tale notion of wizards and witches that all muggle children tend to have and to find out that I was one of them , even if only 'half 'a witch was not a pleasant discovery.

But I never once associated auntie Dorcas's memory with _witches_.

I think I was more shocked by that piece of news than the Hogwarts letter.

The visual and mental image of my beloved late aunt took a drastic turn, as I tried to digest this latest 'inheritance' from her.

An unreasonable mixture of disgust and grief filled me in turns. And anger. For not telling me, or even hinting at the new world she knew I would meet someday.

After all, witches died horrible deaths whereas auntie Dorcas had "died" from a deadly disease...but it turns out she didn't die because of 'who' she was but for who she wanted to protect...she wanted to protect us...

It does sound a bit strange now when I think about it ...

The feeling was mutual for the Slytherins who resented the entry of any "aliens" on their pure-bred territory. They wanted me to leave as much as I did, and put their thoughts into actions on several occasions...

The stands burst into sporadic cheers as Dorchester blocked a well-aimed quaffle and tossed it to chaser Demetrius DePore who gave a clever tackle to Mathis near the Gryffindor post who scored a goal. Shouts of delight erupted from the stands as I glared at the trio with intense disgust.

DePore was waving his arms with a self explanatory smugness, much to the delight of his fan base below who also shared their loyal infatuations with the absent Croesus.

Scowling at the pair of them, I returned to my brooding.

The Slytherins made sure I got their customary "_welcome_" in the first couple of weeks. After a near fatal incident involving my head having a prolonged dip in the Lake (the argument stood that they were helping me wash something out of my hair) I had professors accompanying a select group of us "half-bloods" to all classes for a while.

All through these five years, there has been an ever increasing gap between the "half bloods" and the "pure blood" Slytherins. The latter are still smarting from the defeat of that masochistic leader of theirs : Voldermort, who had a grudge against formers like me.

This hostility is never apparent, just subtle enough to cause hallway fights and increasing segregation between us. And the gap only gets wider...

I shifted uneasily on the broom, feeling alienated by the mere touch of its surface. I was feeling a cold fury throb through my veins to the point that I didn't care who won this stupid match so long as I could give Trent and his cronies a piece of my mind.

Something glittered past me and for the second time that day I moved without thinking. The crowds had been screaming itself hoarse during the entire time of my reflection and as I sped past the scoreboard, the score read Slytherin 60 and Gryffindor 100.

It was at times like these that my mother's exasperated voice found it's way into my head, ".. **_you can't have looked properly, do you have eyes or potatoes_**? ", an unfortunate remark that seemed justified now.

Gathering speed by lying flat out, the broom whistled past blurs of moving Greens and Reds... and there it was!

The snitch was near Gryffindor keeper Archie Wood's elbow.

Suddenly, the sound of a crack from my left indicated a fast approaching bludger. I rolled out of the way but managed to catch the bludger on my tail anyway. Now I was rapidly spiraling out of control and I felt my fingers release its grip on the broom.

There was a heart stopping moment of silence. When I opened my eyes, I was in my favourite position, hanging upside down by the crooks of my knees.

A sigh of relief mingled with laughter and cheers released itself from the crowd, many of whom were anti-Croesus and in effect were rooting for my success in the game.

I forgot it all in that moment. About Slytherins, and afternoon toffees.

All that mattered _now _was getting the Snitch.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch 6

After making this decision, I saw Chloe Gordon racing down the other end of the field near the stands. As the wind cut through my hair, I remembered a tactic which I always wanted to try on the practice grounds.

Twisting and turning out of the other players way, I could just make out the hazel glint of Gordon's plaits while the enthusiastic crowd below yelled in excitement.

I was just within 15 inches of her position, and I could see the snitch fluttering just out of her grasp. Sidling from her left , I gripped the broomstick once more between the legs.

Then preparing my arms for the rehearsed tactic, I guided the broom to sweep directly under the Gryffindor seeker.

Momentarily startled by the sudden movement, Gordon looked down and stared dumbly back at me. It was just what I expected and I used the moment to give myself a sudden thrust, just enough to grab the snitch from under her nose while she was thus distracted. My arm shot out, where I could just about feel the beating of wings against my fingertips.

This proved too much for Gordon.

She swerved and screamed as she rolled in the air, her legs losing grip on the underside of the broomstick and flopped upside down, just barely holding on to the handle.

Rolling rather clumsily back into an upright position, I turned the broom around and

flew once again under the panic stricken girl and gave her a leg-up before reason caught up with me. _She's a Seeker, for crying out loud!_

It was too late. I heard rather than saw the wings of the snitch beat before it zoomed off again.

A loud "_Awww_" mingled with roars of fury from the Slytherin supporters.

'_Why did I do that?' _I asked myself over and over as I sped hopelessly towards the general direction of the vanished snitch.

The girl could easily have righted herself, and now I let the whole team down by missing the snitch...wait, was that 'regret' that I just felt? For them ?

My head swam a bit as it tried to digest this new inconveniently placed insight.

'_It's supposed to 'Us versus Them'.... So who is Us? Am I finally accepting the fact that I belong to an 'Us'? if I've accepted being a witch, am I also taking those – those 'people' as my team mates....WHOAH!'_

I tugged the broom just in time and avoided the collision with our beater Sispyrus Clay. '_Slytherin_'s', I corrected myself, _not our_..

When I happened to look down though, I saw the fair head of Trent among the excitable crowd.

As I was turning the broom around, he was already cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting something which sounded to me like the familiar topic of the torture chambers.

It took a certain amount of struggle not to throw Clay's Beater at him as the redoubtable Kane had done earlier.

The commentator continued his remarks;

**"**..and that was an altogether unexpected (a few random cheers from the crowd affirmed this) move by Slytherin's Tabitha Meadowes against Gryffindor's Chloe Gordon. Unfortunately, it also lost them the Snitch.. well.. the chasers have not been idle though. The points stand at 130 ...No! 140 to Gryffindor ! Good work, Pater! that's the stuff we like to see, isn't that right everyone? (the crowd cheered through the commentary but it seemed to give O'Reilly a boost regardless) yeah! yeah! yeah! here we go, here we go-oo I said here we go, here we go, here we go-ooo!..**"**

I took on another burst of speed, partly out of frustration and anger and in doing so nearly sped past the snitch again.

It was hovering near the Commentary box and Gordon (evidently still recovering from shock) hadn't noticed it yet. Not caring what happened next, I flew straight and true towards the glittering globe and when it was an arm's length away, I did the half body thrust again.

Only it wasn't half.


	7. End and Epilogue

Ch 7

As expected, the crowd simultaneously gasped as I separated myself permanently from the broom.

A startled Reilley just managed to scramble away from his post as I fell well past the box right into the middle of the stands below.

As opposed to the alternative 10 feet drop to the ground, crashing into the stands at a mere 4 feet was a breeze and luckily for me I had a soft landing or rather a freckly fifth year named Stevenson was the landing, who would later sport a sprained collarbone at the Infirmary ward.

Lying there in a state of bemusement, not knowing where my limbs were scattered I was faintly aware of how lucky I was to survive such a reckless tactic. Heads bobbed all over my peripheral vision and unseen hands tried propping me up from the moaning human cushion underneath.

**"**Hey! are you crazy!?**"**

**"**Oh my God, we thought you..**"**

**"..** was so cool!**"**

**"**.. that in your hand?**"**

I gazed down at my left fist that was tightly clenched around something. With a curious sense of lightheadedness I thought my hand had sprouted wings. Slowly unfurling my fingers, a glimpse of the struggling gold snitch sent an electric shock to through my spine.

**"**HEY! She got the snitch!!**"** squealed a girl on my left, emitting a long scream that was joined by several others until it resembled a strange discordant wail.

The unseen hands now lifted me high above their owner's heads and passed me down the stand. It felt like I was swimming in a sea of upturned palms. Grinning slowly, I waved my arms to the ecstatic crowd.

It took me a few minutes to realize that Gryffindors everywhere were giving massive group hugs and yelling until they grew purple in the face.

I turned my head (with some difficulty) to the commentary stand.

Only then did I hear the final score re - read by an impatient Professor McGonagall to the noisy jubilant crowd.

The Slytherins score was 140 but the Gryffindors scored 150 owing to a couple of combined last minute goals set by Gryffindor chasers Bane and Pater.

I slumped against the hands.

I had caught my first snitch but still managed to lose the game. In a way, it was a fitting form of revenge against the Slytherins , but instead of elation I felt...awful.

Not waiting for Professor Dumbledore who was congratulating the Gryffindor Quiddich Captain, I made my way through the throngs of rejoicing fans. Some of them extricated themselves long enough to congratulate me on the "_wicked flying_" up there and although I acknowledged them with fixed smiles, my heart felt set in lead.

I tried consoling myself that at least I was left off the Filchian tour but to no effect.

Just then, there was a change in the general tone of the crowds. I glanced towards the Podium and saw several hands pointing at me.

**"** 'ere she is!! **"** said a small red haired Hufflepuff boy.

Looking up, I saw Dumbledore standing up there on the podium, beckoning me to come forward. He held a smaller trophy in his hand and the effect was like Moses raising his staff to part the sea of interested spectators.

I stared for a few moments.

Then began the slow dream-like walk towards him.

EPILOGUE

Clutching the Promising player of the Match trophy an hour later, I made my way back to the Slytherin Common room.

My progress was arrested when I was overtaken by a panting Trent.

I opened my mouth and got as far as, **"**Ah!**"** as in **" **Ah ha! just-the-low-lying-cretin-I-wanted-to–see**"**, when he spoke first.

**"**There you are !", he said, drawing me aside to the statue of Urugyle the Brave.

I began again.

"Now, you listen to me you - **"**

"– wantedto tell you (_pant..pant_..) that what you pulled back there (_pant..) _was great stuff

never mind the fact that you still lost us the game,_ but_ ", he added, "that was not the only point I wanted to make...**"**

"Erm..?**"** was all I could manage.

Trent didn't notice the interruption and plunged on.

"there's also the matter of a meeting for the whole team tomorrow and Dorchester says you'll be starting Seeker practice for the next match as soon as he delivers the news to Croesus, which should be...**"** He glanced at his pocket watch. " ..around about now, I should think."

Trent paused to tuck the silver chain in his pocket and I used the time to draw up my sagging jaw.

"But I .. how can this be? I mean, I thought you were all...well, we're not exactly mates in the first place are we?"

Trent wrinkled his forehead slightly and cocked his head to one side.

**"**I don't know what you mean, Meadowes...what did the sorting hat declare in your first year?"

"Slytherin..."

"So what's your point? That makes you a mate and comrade, and little snot heads like Croesus and his cronies who have currently no market value in the Quidditch stakes are not worth listening to........besides, you hardly speak to any of us. You're always off with the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs...."

I opened my mouth to protest but found I couldn't. It was all true and I didn't want to face it until today.

Even Trent was showing signs of uncomfortability and quickly changed the topic to Me-bashing.

"You know what, Meadowes ... we could have won that cup if you hadn't decided to rescue '_the Siren_' and paid attention to those repeated warnings I gave in the stands to not catch the Snitch so early.....it's a good thing I switched the 100-3 odds on you finding the snitch but losing the game! Think of the reversal of Hogsmeade allowances that is in my possession now...." He said, tapping his pocket which made a heavy 'clunk' sound.

"There is as we speak, a mob of poorer but wiser third and fourth years drowning their sorrows in the Three Broomsticks as we speak. The Establishment's happy, I'm happy, Dorchester and Paris _aren't_ happy but who cares about them, eh? **"**

He gave an absent minded grin, and started to walk towards the Great Hall. He paused in mid stride, snapped his fingers, and whipped around.

**"**Oh yes! Knew there was that other thing...Professor Snape got back after I spoke with Dorchester and will be in the staff room...**" .**

I stood there dangling the trophy in my hand for several moments after he was gone.

When Professor Dumbledore commended my "act of self service for a team player ", he also awarded 50 points to Slytherin that bowled me over completely. The same feeling of knocking nine pins down with a single ball came from Trent's unexpected revelation.

The more cynical part of me wanted to ignore everything he said but luckily the sensible part beat the former down. What would auntie Dorcas have done? The right thing.

She knew she didn't have to hide away forever....

Glancing down at the cup, I sighed and waved away the tempting vision to swing it at 'Rat-face's' retreating head.

'_After all_, m_aybe today was a sign of good things to come_, I thought as I made my way to the staff room.

Fin.


End file.
